Aim
by Reallysadvideogames
Summary: "See," Shepard leaned down and picked up a pistol. "I've got some standards." A wicked grin played on the commander's face, her fingers running over the pistol. "You gotta know how to shoot," - Samantha wanted to ignore the sexual tension, but she couldn't. - Shaynor one-shot, rated T for language and minor sexual themes. Disclaimer: I own nothing.


Samantha's eyes were narrowed in concentration, her bottom lip was pressed in between her teeth, and she kept her breathing even. Samantha's shoulders were tense, the assault rifle was slightly lifted away from her, but she kept a tight grip on it. Shepard looked over her shoulder silently, her arms crossed over her chest.

Sadly, Samantha wasn't a very good shot. The specialist fired. The bullet didn't even come close to the immobile target.

Both women sighed at the same time. Shepard, trying to hide a chuckle, Samantha, trying not to scream out of frustration. "I can't do it," she muttered, her tone laced with disappointment. Samantha stood up straight, the rifle lowered and resting at her side.

She twisted around and stared at Shepard. Her cheeks were reddened, and she had her hand pressed to her mouth, trying to muffle laughter. The soldier inhaled once, twice, and finally a third time. Any trace of amusement had left her face, except for her eyes. Mirth lingered in the pools of green. "What's so funny?!" Samantha cried, crossing her arms.

"Nothing," Shepard shook her head, her teeth dug sharply into the inside of her cheek as she tried to keep the grin off her face. "You're too tense. If you'd relax a bit, you might get it."

Samantha's brows pulled into a frown, and she opened her mouth as though to protest. "And," Shepard continued, interrupting the specialist, "you need to hold the gun close to your body. That absorbs the shock of the recoil. Don't worry, it doesn't bite unless it's aimed at you." Shepard shot Samantha a wink, and took a step towards to her.

"Commander," Samantha took one step back, her breath quickening. A blush darkened her cheeks, and Samantha hoped it wasn't too noticeable.

Shepard shook her head for the second time. A full-blown smirk on her face. "C'mon, try again," she gestured towards the target. Samantha hesitantly turned around. She raised the gun again, but her body was alert and sharp. Her shoulders hunched.

The specialist jumped when she felt a warm palm wrap around her shoulder. "You're great at relaxing. Anyone ever tell you that?" Shepard said, sarcasm dripping from her words. Samantha sighed in bliss as Shepard gently kneaded her shoulder. The gun was loose, and almost slipped from her fingers.

Samantha forced herself back into reality when the pleasant motions stopped. "Now try," Shepard whispered in her ear. Samantha realized just how close she really was, and swallowed nervously, out of both fear and excitement.

She raised the gun again, and dug it into her side. Samantha aimed, inhaled, exhaled, and fired.

The shot wasn't perfect, but she'd hit the target.

"See?" Shepard gave her wide grin. "Told you, you could do it,"

Samantha's blush deepened. She could feel the commander's hot breath on her neck, could feel the gentle press of her breasts against her back with every inhale. Oh lord, this wasn't good at all. It was wrong, but it felt so amazing.

"Y-yes, of course," the specialist nodded, giving Shepard a hesitant smile herself. "I have a _very_ good teacher," she murmured. Only to realize just how suggestive her words could have been taken.

"Mmm..." Shepard didn't reply, only grunted her approval. "Again," she ordered, right before she placed her hands on Samantha's shoulders. Her fingers trailed over Samantha's shoulders, then her arms, and finally curled around her own hands. Shepard gently tugged Samantha's limbs into the proper position.

Now the specialist could feels every line and curvature of her commander's battle-hardened body. Her arms overlapped Samantha's own, and her legs pressed against the other's. This was very bad. Samantha resisted the urge to lay her head back. She briefly wondered what Shepard would do if she did that. What would it be like, if only for a moment, to be able to hear Shepard's heartbeat, to rest and feel safe?

But Samantha quickly pulled herself off that line of thought. If she went down that path...

The commander's sharp voice pulled Samantha out of her less-than-decent thoughts.

"Traynor," Shepard hissed. "Traynor, _stop_, you're killing me!" the commander pulled back fast, and Samantha whipped around to look at her.

Her pale skin was darkened in a blush that trailed from her cheeks down her neck. Her position was rigid, defensive, and hard with her arms crossed over her chest. What had she done? Did she do something wrong? Shepard sure as hell was doing everything right. Maybe Samantha could convince her to do it again. Maybe she could convince her to do more.

Samantha was already missing the feeling of Shepard pressed against her. It had felt nice, too nice.

Realizing fast that Shepard was indeed upset, she was quick to jump and apologize, her eyes wide. "I am so, so, sorry!" she paused, biting her lip. "What...did I do?" Samantha muttered after a moment.

"You? Nothing," Shepard shook her head. "It's me."

"It's not you, it's me?" Samantha nearly laughed at something so cliche, but she didn't. That might just make things worse. "Than what's wrong, commander? Maybe I can help?"

"You're wrong, dammit," she growled under her breath, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

Samantha schooled her face into one of calm, and indifference. Those words had hurt. She hadn't expected those harsh words from the commander, and it had crushed her spirit a bit. Quite a bit, actually. "Alright," she filled the silence after a moment. Samantha was proud. Her voice had only cracked a little, "I'll just be going, then." Samantha made her way to brush past Shepard, to leave and run and only cry in the privacy of her own bunk. She would rather let a husk nibble on her toes than cry in front of Commander Shepard.

She felt a strong hand wrap around her wrist, and tug her back. "No, you don't get it," Shepard pleaded. Without any warning, Shepard had yanked Samantha close, their bodies pressing together. Shepard placed both of her hands on the sides of the other woman's cheeks. "You are my problem. It's fucking torture, watching you like that. Being that close, and not able to do anything about it."

Samantha's body grew hot under Shepard's intense stare, and she was unable to breathe for several seconds. She was stunned into silence, unable to say or do anything. Just stare back with the longing and lust she had tried so desperately hard to deny and hide. So close, so close. She could just lean up and kiss Shepard. She could. She wanted to so badly.

Disappointment, and rejection slowly seeped into Shepard's eyes when Samantha didn't say anything. Shepard had put herself on the line, and Samantha hadn't said anything. The commander was pulling away, but Samantha would have none of it. She threw caution out the window, and into the empty pool of the other caution she'd gotten rid of.

Samantha slammed her hands on Shepard's shoulders, and yanked her commander down. She hastily pressed her lips against the other's, a little whine escaping her. Shepard didn't react at first, and Samantha was beginning to worry. What if this wasn't she wanted? What if Samantha had made a horrible mistake. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Shepard wrapped her arm around Samantha's torso. Her free hand reaching up to tangle in Samantha's hair. They were even closer than before, if that were possible.

The kiss wasn't soft, or romantic. It was fast, hard, and breathtaking. Shepard poured in all of her pent up tension and emotions into that kiss. Shepard pressed her tongue against the other's lips, demanding access. Samantha had barely opened her mouth before Shepard slipped her tongue in.

It was only then that Samantha felt her lungs burn for air. She pulled away to breathe, gasping for air like a fish out of water. "That was...amazing,"

Shepard grinned down at her. "'Course it was," she kept on that cocky facade, but Samantha saw the lingering doubt in her eyes. She'd seen that look before, and she hated it.

Samantha gently brushed Shepard's cheek with her hand. Her lips curled up into a genuine smile as she tried to reassure the other woman. But there was the unspoken question that seemingly neither one of them wanted to talk about. "So," Samantha started, since Shepard sure as hell probably wasn't going to, "where does this leave us?"

Shepard visibly tensed. Her brows pulled downwards in a frown. "Where do you want it to leave us?" she murmured. Shepard took a step back, leaving Samantha feeling lonely again. "I can just...forget it, if that's what you want." Shepard said, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping into her tone.

"No!" Samantha quickly interjected. Shepard looked up, her eyes were wide, as though she hadn't expected that. "I mean," Samantha sucked in a breath, the spur of the moment courage was gone, and she was left only with the aftershock of adrenalin. "I would like it if we gave _us_ a chance? But if you don't want to, I'll understand." the specialist cringed internally. She sounded so weak, so hesitant. She had referred to them as us. It had rolled off her tongue with ease, like they were already together. But they weren't, and Samantha had to remind herself of that.

Shepard licked her bottom lip, drawing Samantha's attention. Oh God help her, how she would love to be one to run her tongue over Shepard's lips. "See," Shepard leaned down and picked up a pistol. "I've got some standards." A wicked grin played on the commander's face. Her fingers running over the pistol. "You gotta know how to shoot, before I can do anything." Shepard tossed the gun at Samantha, and the specialist fumbled to catch it.

"Get to work, Traynor."


End file.
